


never enough

by saffronHeliotrope



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Double Penetration, Multi, Polyamory, Tentabulges, Threesome, Xenophilia, incredibly self-indulgent porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saffronHeliotrope/pseuds/saffronHeliotrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Dave are great together -- better than great. You can be sexy and goofy and loving together until the cows come home. But add in a short gray perpetual motion machine made of heart-on-sleeve angry intensity, and it becomes something else altogether. You can't get enough of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	never enough

You wake up to two sounds: the shower running, and someone singing.

You stretch, slow and luxuriant, still buried deep in the covers. There’s still residual warmth in the bed and you trail your fingers over the fine smooth sheets, glad again that you splurged on the good ones. It’s been a long hard slog, after all! Little luxuries are important in making you feel like a human being, and there have been times in the past six years when you thought you might never feel that way again.

For a little while you just bask in the good feelings washing over you. It’s done. You did it. You did it! You always knew you could do it. But all the same you’re so glad it’s done. You feel like you could jump over rivers and knock down tall buildings.

The singing gets louder, coming closer: “ _We are young -- heartache to heartache we stand -- no promises, no demands --”_

You’re laughing before the bedroom door even opens. “Pat Benatar? Seriously?”

“You betcha, baby. We’re kicking it old school today. Love is a goddamn battlefield.” Dave deposits two steaming mugs on the nightstand, then bellyflops onto the bed beside you and nuzzles the side of your face while you giggle. “Good morning, Dr. Harley,” he says, low in your ear.

“Oh wow, I really haven’t gotten over how amazing that sounds,” you say, then tug him in to peck him on the lips. His are slightly chapped and he tastes like the sugar he dumps in his coffee by the shovelful. You pull back and beam at him, tucking strands of ash-blond hair behind his ear. “Good morning, Mrs. Dr. Harley,” you say.

“And what would you like to do on your first day as a big fancypants Ph.D?” he asks, exploring the skin between your ear and your collarbone with the tip of his nose and making you hum happily.

“Anything that doesn’t involve two hours of hard questioning from my thesis committee will already give today a leg up over yesterday,” you say, squirming a little under the blankets and burying your fingers in his hair. He chuckles into the side of your neck. “And I think we’ll put off the beginning of the job search until tomorrow. So today I vote for brunch in our jammies, a Star Trek marathon, and later a walk to get ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” he says. “Fuck, didn’t you get the memo? It’s January and it’s dark-side-of-the-moon degrees outside. I think I saw some polar bears go by earlier because they were getting too toasty at the North Pole and needed to cool down.”

“I don’t care!” you say firmly. “When you grow up alone on an island in the middle of the ocean you learn never to take ice cream for granted. I hold the highest degree in this household and if I want ice cream then ice cream I shall have.”

He grins. “I love it when you get all bossy.”

“And good thing, too!” You sit up, shedding blankets, and reach over him for your coffee. It’s tar-black and twice as strong. Perfect.

“Well hello,” he says, and you feel cool fingers sliding up your side. Amazing how after all this time you can still totally distract Dave in a heartbeat by sudden exposure to boobs! It’s true; you’ve measured the effect. Average time from initial flashing to distraction is an impressive 1.25 seconds, which in 75% of cases progresses to total mental incapacitation in an additional three to four seconds.

Right now, those long fingers are slipping under the curve of your breast, and his thumb rubs lightly over your nipple. You make a happy noise in your throat and set your coffee down again.

He slides up beside you. One hand tangles in your sleep-messy hair; the other keeps stroking at your breast, pinching the hard nub of your nipple ever so lightly between finger and thumb. You arch a little into his touch. Every stroke sends a jumpy little current of electricity straight down through your belly. “So how invested are you in the idea of brunch?” His voice is low and hot in your ear, and then he nudges at your jaw with his nose until you let you head fall back and to the side, baring your neck for him. His lips drag a warm path down to your collarbone and back up again.

“Still invested, but not urgently,” you say, your breath catching a little when his fingers squeeze. “I think we can put off that agenda item for a bit.”

“Good,” he breathes. You get your hands under the hem of his “Spring Break 1994 Wet T-Shirt Contest Champion” shirt, which says “The Wetter The Better” on the back and is your absolute favorite, and run your fingertips all over his warm skin. He loops an arm around your waist, tugs you closer, searches out your mouth for a kiss.

You dodge.

He splutters through a mouthful of hair. “Jesus, Harley, your smoothness knows no bounds.”

“Sorry! Morning breath!” you say. “It’s a public health hazard.”

He groans. “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again that I don’t care.”

“Well, I do!” You slip out of his grip and out of bed. You grab your bathrobe -- it’s cold outside of the bed! -- and pause at the door of the bathroom, pointing your finger at him sternly. “Don’t go anywhere,” you say, “and I want you naked when I get back.”

The slow grin that breaks over his face warms you down to the bottoms of your feet. “Whatever you want, babe,” he says lazily.

The bathroom is full of steam from the shower, and you do what you need to do quickly. You squint at your blurry reflection in the fogged mirror and consider trying to do something about your bed-head, but decide that you are quite sexy enough to be getting on with, thank you very much.

When you open the door to the bedroom, you burst out laughing.

Dave is wearing one of your littlest nighties, the red silky one, and lounging on the bed with a rose in his teeth. An actual rose. He must have stolen it from the bouquet John gave you yesterday -- the stem looks like it’s still wet. The lingerie is tight around his ribcage and the cups fall sadly flat against his chest but the tiny skirt is hiked scandalously high on one long pale leg.

“Well, well, what have we here?” You stalk toward the bed and pounce. He waggles his eyebrows at you, and you take the rose from his mouth and fling it across the room.

He makes a face. “ _Bleagh_. Roses taste terrible. Just so you know.”

“Probably that little packet of flower-food. I think there’s bleach in that stuff,” you say conversationally. Your hand slides up under the little red skirt. He makes a perfectly lovely noise when your fingernails graze over the soft skin at the crease of his hip. “And I thought I said I wanted you naked.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to make it too easy for you,” he says, a little breathless while you dip down to kiss his ear. “I’m not that kind of bo- _hoooy--_ ”

Dave, you long ago discovered to your delight, goes completely off the rails when you stick your tongue in his ear.

He squirms all over the place while you go to town on him. You manage to wriggle him out of your nightgown while he gets his hands under your bathrobe, and by the time he’s stretched out all naked and lovely on the bed, you’re straddling his hips with your robe flung to the floor. He slides his hands up your torso to cup your breasts, then higher to tangle in your hair. He pulls you down for a kiss and you settle over his body, his deliciously warm smooth skin. Your hair falls down all around you.

He looks up at you, the faintest smile playing over his teasing mouth, then he says, “Over you go, pumpkin,” and flips you neatly onto your back.

You hum with pleasure as he kisses his way down your throat, your breastbone (pausing for a completely gratuitous cleavage-nuzzle) then over the softness of your belly. He’s nudging your legs open before he even gets there, and he rubs his smooth cheek against your inner thigh.

“You already shaved,” you say, tracing his jawline with your fingers. “Were you planning this?”

“Had to be ready for all eventualities,” he says between kisses, inching ever closer to where you really want him. “Seemed only fair.”

“Still, seems awfully forward-thinking of you,” you say, then let out a little gasp as he gives you a first exploratory lick, tongue flat and soft.

“That’s me,” he says. “Forward-thinking. Also hella smart and dead sexy. And good in bed.”

“Mmm -- that -- that remains to be seen,” you say, squirming under an onslaught of little fluttering licks. “Maybe I’ll subject you to two or three hours of hard questioning. Then we’ll see if you pass your...”

He cocks one eyebrow at you, dragging his tongue deliberately over your pussy.

“Your...”

He closes his lips around your clit and sucks lightly.

“Ahh! Your... _oral defense._ ”

He looks up at you a moment in disbelief, then deliberately turns his head and blows a loud raspberry into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

Your peals of laughter turn quickly breathy and whimpery when he goes at you with a will, tongue and lips and wet heat that sends a wave of warmth all over your body. His hair is silky and slippery in your fingers. When he traces your slit with one long finger and pushes inside, you moan and shiver and clench down around his finger. He laughs a little, low.

The bathroom door bangs open. A voice growls, “What the fuck.”

Dave looks up. You turn your head to look at the gray blob in the doorway. It’s blurry because you don’t have your glasses, but you think you’re looking at five-foot-four of damp and ridiculously pretty troll boy, towel wrapped low around his hips.

“Oh shit, it’s the wife,” says Dave.

“You turdwaffles started without me,” says Karkat.

“But you’re just in time,” you say, reaching for him.

He stalks toward the bed. You lace the fingers of one hand through his and tug him down to sit beside you. Just then, Dave laps showily at your clit, and you sink back with a little moan.

“Show-off,” Karkat says testily, but the claw-tips of his other hand trace through Dave’s hair and down his back. Dave hums a little against you. You like that very much.

Karkat is staring down at you with that wonderful frown he gets when his feelings are getting too intense to deal with. You laugh. “Come here, Grouchyface!” you say, and pull him down to kiss him. Kissing Karkat is nothing like kissing Dave. There are the teeth to deal with, sure, a little pointy, a little sharp; his tongue is a little longer than yours, a little more flexy in slightly unexpected ways. But the best part is that he’s just _different._ Dave is most definitely a mammal, skin soft with millions of tiny translucent hairs, and the smell and taste of him are dark and warm and delicious in a way your body recognizes. But Karkat is undeniably _alien_. His skin is pliable and tough, nearly poreless, barely dents when you dig in your fingernails (you know because he’s let you try), and it refracts light in a way that your eyes find just ever-so-slightly strange. His mouth tastes faintly metallic, though not unpleasantly. And where Dave is blood-warm against your lips, Karkat is hot, magnesium-flare hot, sulfur-springs hot. His cells are not your cells and his chemistry is not your chemistry, and you can’t get enough of him.

When his mouth opens and his tongue pushes into your mouth, everything goes bright and hyper-real. You and Dave are great together -- better than great. You can be sexy and goofy and loving together until the cows come home. But add in a short gray perpetual motion machine made of heart-on-sleeve angry intensity, and it becomes something else altogether. He’s amazing. He’s so _responsive_ that it makes your own nerve endings sing.

Your fingers find the wide raised ridges of his grub leg scars (God, you wish you could have seen him as a grub, just once! He must have been the cutest freaking thing!) and he grunts a little bit. His hand trails over you, cupping your breast, thumb catching slightly over your nipple -- his fingers, snakeskin sealskin sharkskin, just the tiniest bit rough over your softness. It makes you feel like little sparks are running all over your skin. When you arch into his touch he does it again, and again.

And Dave does _that thing_ with his tongue and all unexpectedly you’re coming, just a little one, but enough to make you flush and pant and writhe, and when you can open your eyes Dave is propped up on his elbows and grinning at you.

“You’re not done, are you?” he asks.

“Oh lord, not even remotely,” you say.

“Praise jegus,” Dave says, crawling up behind you.

“When have you ever known her to be satisfied with just one?” Karkat grumbles. “Are all human females so greedy, or just Jade Harley the Insatiable Wonder?” You take the opportunity to divest him of his towel and tug him down to the bed. His bulge isn’t out yet, but he’s starting to flush a little around his slit, and it’s adorable.

“That’s _Dr._ Insatiable Wonder to you. Show a little respect, mere mortal.” Dave’s voice is a rumble in your ear as he presses up behind you. His hard-on is warm and solid against your ass and you grind back against him a little just to feel his body respond.

“More like Dr. Can’t-Keep-It-In-Her-Pants. Ah- _haaah._ ” That’s the sound Karkat makes when you dig your teeth gently into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“I don’t see the problem,” you say, turning over and kneeling up so you can see the two of them together, Karkat a messy dark thundercloud and Dave a gorgeous streak of gold. Dave immediately rolls over and starts kissing Karkat’s ear, one hand going up to thumb at his horn. Karkat shivers a little, and you smile. “In fact, you’re late to the party, Mr. Can’t-Get-It-Out-Of-His-Pants.”

“Shut up, nookmunch.” He’s blushing, trying to hold it together as Dave’s fingers trace low over his stomach and trace the flushed edges of his bulgeslit. “There are perfectly reasonable biological reasons --”

“Excuses, excuses,” says Dave, rolling his eyes.

“Aww, it’s ok, Karkat, I’m just teasing!” you say. “It just makes it more of a challenge!”

You plant a kiss against the funny bump at the base of Karkat’s throat, then a few inches down his slightly convex breastbone. When you look up at his face, he’s staring down at you, eyes wide and wondering. “You don’t have to,” he says with a little hitch in his voice as you kiss his belly. He says it every time.

You grin, then swirl your tongue where his bellybutton would be if he had one. “I know,” you say. “I want to.” As you watch, Dave puts two fingers under Karkat’s chin and turns his head until he can catch his mouth in a kiss. Under you, Karkat’s body goes pliant.

The slit of his bulge-sheath is just over where his pubic bone would be if he were human. You’ve never gotten a look at a troll skeleton, but you suspect that the whole pelvis is structured similarly but different in details. The slit is usually flat and practically invisible -- that is, until Karkat gets turned on, like he is now.

You press your lips to each side in turn, where the skin is growing swollen and flushed red. There are a lot of nerve endings here, and he squirms a little when you trace your fingers and then your tongue over the slit.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” you say.

Karkat splutters. “Fuck, Harley, you are _not_ talking to my bulge.”

“Roll with it, babe,” murmurs Dave, and after a moment Karkat makes a muffled whimper into Dave’s mouth.

He has explained to you why bulges are slow to wake up -- way slower than human junk, anyway. You guess it makes sense. Considering the general aggressiveness of trolls, and the potential for blackrom-flavored misunderstandings, it only stands to reason that you wouldn’t want your bulge -- which is, after all, a pretty delicate organ when exposed -- to come out to play unless you’re absolutely sure it’s in for some sexytimes and not about to get gruesomely damaged by someone who turns out to be an actual enemy and not interested in engaging in sex-based rivalry.

Which, of course, means that even when Karkat is a panting trembling wreck -- and he’s not there yet but Dave is on it -- it still takes some work to get his bulge out. But it’s ok, you really don’t mind, not when he makes such nice sounds -- and in the meantime you can feel him getting more undone all the time. You slip your fingers down to tease at the opening of his nook. When you press a finger inside, the tip of his bulge, candy-red and glistening, emerges from his slit.

“There we are!” you croon delightedly, peppering Karkat with little kisses, leaning in and breathing warm over the little tip. He groans as you lick your way up his slit and over the tip of his bulge, which wriggles against your tongue. A little more of it works its way out, thickening rapidly from the slender tip. As soon as there’s enough, you stroke it lightly with your finger, and it immediately curls around you. You bite back a giggle, rubbing the tip gently between finger and thumb while you slide the index finger of your other hand deeper into his nook.

Karkat jumps, biting back a whimper. Dave chuckles above you, and you look up. He’s sucking a series of hickeys into Karkat’s neck. You approve, so you start a matching one on his hip, off to the side of his bulgeslit. His bulge writhes a little farther out of his sheath, and it wraps tighter around your fingers, squeezing hard.

You squirm a little, rubbing your thighs together.

You love Karkat’s bulge. You _love_ Karkat’s bulge. It’s weird and sexy and perfect, skin smooth and fine like wet silk, translucent red lubrication oozing from invisible pores. The muscles that lie under the skin are really strong and hyper-flexible. When he concentrates, he can control its movement to some degree, but it seems to be largely involuntary -- finding crevices to wriggle into, wrapping around things. Right now it’s strong and tight around your fingers, and from the way it squeezes, alternating firm and soft and undulating with changing pressure, you think you can understand why Dave likes it so much when it’s wrapped around his dick.

In fact, you kind of wish you had a dick yourself so you could see what it feels like. For science! Only kind of, though -- there’s so much fun stuff you can do with your own set of equipment, and there’s one idea in particular that you haven’t been able to get out of your head lately.

After a few minutes of judicious application of fingers and tongue, you’ve got Karkat shivering and rocking his hips into your hands. His bulge is almost all the way out, and when you squeeze it in your hand he convulses and clutches at Dave, who rolls in and nearly pokes you in the eye with his hard-on.

“Wow, Dave, rude,” you say, and then give the head of his cock a nice sloppy open-mouthed kiss. Dave makes a strangled sound. You’ve got their complete attention now, and you kneel up, flushed and grinning.

“So what’ll it be, boys?”

Dave says, “This is your party, sweetness. I think you should decide.”

You consider your options for a hot second, then say, “I want to be the oreo filling in a red-knight sandwich.”

Dave raises his eyebrows at you, and Karkat says, “Shit, really?”

“Yes, really,” you say, and a slow smile is already spreading its way across Dave’s face.

“Then get up here,” he says.

He scoots back and you crawl up between them, settling between the warmth of their bodies, rolling to kiss Dave, languid and slow. Karkat presses against your back, hands sliding possessively down your stomach. You’re already tingling all over at their heat, their closeness.

“You want Dave in front and me behind?” Karkat asks low in your ear while his bulge squirms against you. Dave groans a little, back in his throat.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum. Karkat’s hand finds its way down between your legs, and you press eagerly back against him, hiking your leg up over Dave’s hip.

Dave breaks away, then leans over you to kiss Karkat. You can feel from the movement of his arm that he takes hold of Karkat’s bulge and gives him a few long strokes, base to tip, slicking up his hand. “You want me to do this part?” he asks, and you nod, because, well, claws. You’ve all long since discovered the amazing lubricant properties of troll junk and haven’t bought a bottle of lube in ages, but human fingers are definitely what you want for this job.

He settles back down and reaches under your leg. At the first squirmy-slippery touch of his fingers against your ass, you twitch a little and laugh. Karkat gathers your hair off your neck and starts kissing your nape. You shiver at the feeling of the flats of his fangs against your skin, of Dave’s fingers smooth and confident and slow, relaxing your muscles a little at a time. Karkat’s hand comes up to pluck at your nipples. Everything is warm and bright and perfect.

If you were a cat, you’d be purring.

By the time Karkat has kissed every square inch of your neck and shoulders, Dave has two fingertips pressed up into you, and his palm is warm and firm against your pussy. You grind down against him in helpless little twists of your hips as his fingers slip in and out. You need more. The feeling of emptiness, of needing to be filled, is a steady throb deep inside you, and the movement of Dave’s fingers just offsets the ache in your pussy. This time when Karkat’s hand makes its circuit back down you grab his wrist and hold him there. It’s all a tangle with Dave’s hand and Karkat’s hand and you whimper into Dave’s mouth and rock between them. A little orgasm ripples through you as the pads of Karkat’s fingers stroke your clit, a climax that doesn’t so much release you as it does wind you up further.

When you open your eyes, Dave is watching your face, frank and hungry. “Ready,” you say, and his fingers slip out of you. You turn and kiss Karkat, prickling all over at the heat of his mouth on yours, the alien taste of him.

You push at Dave’s shoulder until he turns and settles on his back, and you crawl up to straddle his waist, heart thumping a little.

Karkat kneels beside you, watching closely. He’s got his bulge trapped against his stomach with one hand, but it writhes increasingly frantically, and he whines a little on each breath. “You ok there, Karkles?” Dave asks, reaching out to stroke his thigh.  


Karkat warbles, low and throaty. God, you could write a whole dissertation on alien sex noises alone. A drip of translucent red runs down over his fingers while you watch. “I’m good,” he manages, blush rising high and bright on his cheekbones. You can’t help yourself; you reach out and twine your fingers into his messy black hair, dense and fine like fur, and rub your thumb over the fine-grained texture of his horn. He leans into your touch, subsonic purr thrumming in his chest. “You’re just both really hot,” he blurts out.

You and Dave laugh outright, and Dave’s hand skates up Karkat’s thigh, thumb rubbing close to the lips of his nook, which are flared and dripping. “Then we’d better get this show on the road, darlin’,” Dave says, and pulls you closer with a hand on your hip.

“Yes _please_ ,” you say. Dave reaches down to steady himself. You slide back and forth a little bit, letting the head of him slip between your labia, letting him feel how wet you are, then you sink down on his cock, nice and slow. A little involuntary noise escapes you, and Dave’s eyes close, brow furrowed slightly, like the only thing he wants to feel is you. You love this part so much. You rock back up a little, then settle over him, lit up everywhere with the feeling of him hard and thick and deep inside you. It’s a blessed relief and it’s almost unbearable.

“Fuck, _Jade_ ,” Dave breathes. Karkat’s hand traces down your spine, just the barest hint of claw-tips on your skin, and you shiver and squirm. Then Dave shifts a little, muscles bunching under you, and you rise on your knees instinctively and press down as he thrusts up into you, and you both moan.

“Oh my God,” breathes Karkat. You turn to him, panting a little. His eyes are huge in his face, and you’re not even touching him. He watches as Dave slides out and into you again, then his eyes come up to your face.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want,” he says with that hitch in his breath that makes you want to climb all over him. You cup the back of his neck and pull him in, and suck his lower lip out from where he’s got it trapped under his teeth.

“I want you inside me too,” you breathe against his lips, and he trills on an exhale.

You lie forward, draping yourself over Dave’s torso as Karkat moves around behind you.  Dave bends his knees to give Karkat room, and it tips you farther forward, pushing your ass up. You feel so open and exposed and a hot little thrill runs through you. When the tip of Karkat’s bulge flickers warm and wet through the cleft of your ass, you stifle a breathless laugh in Dave’s shoulder.

“A little help, Dave?” Karkat says, half-chirring.

“You got it.” Dave’s voice rumbles in his chest, and then his fingers are on you, rubbing and soothing, opening you up again. His other hand rubs your back, strokes your hair. You take deep breaths. A hand -- Karkat’s -- kneads at your upper thigh. You can feel him watching, and you tilt your hips up a little more for him.

“You good?” whispers Dave into your hair. His fingers are gentle and relentless.

“Perfect,” you breathe.

Karkat shifts behind you, bracing with one hand on your hip. Dave’s fingers spread just a little, and then there’s the warm slippery pressure of the slender tip of Karkat’s bulge working its way in.

You whimper a little as Dave eases his fingers out, and then it’s just the slick pulsing warmth of Karkat. You twist to look back over your shoulder at him. He’s so intently focused and when he looks up at you his eyes are like banked embers under his heavy brows. His fist is wrapped tight around his bulge, giving you just a bit at a time. You watch him slide his hand back just a little, and you feel the freed half-inch of bulge writhe its way into you, pressing you open, slow and insistent. You close your eyes against Dave’s chest.

“Good, good girl,” murmurs Dave, holding you tight. “That’s it. Relax.”

“Jade?” comes Karkat’s voice, trembling. His bulge moves a little inside you and your hips twitch involuntarily.

“Keep going,” you say shakily. “It’s amazing. Just go slow.”

He does, and you cling to Dave and push back against Karkat, and somewhere between Dave’s soothing hands and the sound of Karkat’s breath you go boneless and soft and utterly receptive. There’s no pain, just a gradual stretch as Karkat’s bulge thickens, and Dave holding so still under you while you melt over him. “Just -- _oh fuck_ \-- just a little more,” says Karkat behind you, like he’s the one who needs to be reassured. His bulge is incredible like this, working its way into you. You’re so open and so _full_.

The last thick slippery coil pushes into you, and all three of you moan. Karkat’s hips are flush against your ass, his hands flexing on your hips. His bulge curls against your inner walls, slow and throbbing.

“Oh Jesus,” says Dave with an edge of desperation in his voice. “Karkat, I can _feel_ you move.”

Karkat presses closer, shifting you, and Dave digs his heels into the mattress, pushing up. It’s only a shallow thrust but it fires up all your nerves. You’re strung out on too many different sensations, warmth and stretch and pressure and slick skin, caught and held between their bodies, these two whom you love and trust so much.

Dave practically _whines_ under you, bringing your attention back. “Can we turn on our sides?” you ask, voice gone high and tight.

It takes some maneuvering, but Karkat eases you down to your side, holding himself flush against you. You wrap your legs tight around Dave’s waist. There are some brief but heated debates about which limbs can go where, but you get yourselves sorted, and then Karkat’s bulge does that amazing slow coil, and Dave gets himself propped up on his hip so he can actually move, and Karkat gasps, and your eyes just about roll back in your head.

You can’t do much but rock a little back and forth between them, draped halfway back over Karkat’s chest, but it’s enough. Karkat doesn’t need to thrust in and out like Dave does -- he just holds you tight around the waist, rolling his hips against you while his bulge lashes slow and slick inside you. Dave’s range of motion is a little limited by the position so you don’t know if it’s doing much for him but then he groans against the column of your throat and murmurs, “Oh Christ, Jade, you feel so fucking good...” so you stop worrying and just give yourself over to it.

Time stretches out. You feel so good, so filled, like you have an endless capacity to take and take, like there’s no hurry and no tension and the rising tide of heat in your belly is just perfect and inevitable. You’re surrounded by skin, by the sounds of their breathing. Everything is going warm and liquid, stretched and pulled like taffy, your brain flooding with overloading signals: the clench and release of Dave’s muscles, the bright prickle of Karkat’s teeth in your shoulder, the feeling of being taken and opened and claimed. Pleasure is a deep pool that you’re dropping into inch by inch. You work your hand down between your belly and Dave’s, and on his next slow stroke you push down against him just a little so that he drags against your clit, and just that touch is enough. Your orgasm sweeps through you in gorgeous long rolling waves that go on and on.

You cry out, helpless, and Dave and Karkat echo you, and the different timbres of their voices make a perfect harmony.

They’re perfect -- you’re perfect -- they hold you and carry you through what feels like a hundred aftershocks, and they go still when you go still, limp and wrung out.

Dave pulls out first and kneels, breathing hard, cock hanging heavy and dark between his legs. Karkat extricates himself from you, laying little kisses all along your neck and jaw. You can feel him trembling behind you. He raises his head.

“I need you in my nook,” he says, voice gone low and intense and warbly.

Dave lets out a shuddering breath and reaches for him.

It’s all a bit dreamlike after that. You curl on your side, blinking slowly. You see flashes: Karkat settling in Dave’s lap, facing away, body bent like a bow; gray hands flexing on Dave’s knees; Dave’s skin lit up in the morning light, shining with sweat, his muscles twisting and curling. You trace a languid hand over Dave’s side, down Karkat’s leg. Dave’s hands are wrapped around Karkat’s bulge, pale against that vivid crimson.

Karkat’s cry of “Oh God, bucket!” brings you back to yourself, and you twist and reach under the bed, finding the familiar shape of the pail. You hold it between Dave’s knees, watching their faces as they come undone. Dave moans against Karkat’s shoulder, practically lifting Karkat off his knees as he comes, pushing up into him. Karkat’s eyes squeeze shut, body rocking as his bulge sends long pulses of his genetic material over Dave’s fingers and into the pail. They’re such a gorgeous picture that your exhausted nerves perk up a bit and take notice.

Dave flops back onto the bed, breathing hard, arms outflung, hands smearing red onto the sheets. You can’t bring yourself to care. Karkat takes the bucket from you and sets it carefully on the floor, then turns to you, color high and bright across his face, with a look in his eyes that makes your toes curl.

Sometimes you swear he must be able to smell pheromones.

He knocks you gently back onto the sheets, nudging your legs open, and at the first touch of his tongue, hot and wet, you shiver and moan. Somewhere beside you Dave says, “What, again?” but the entire world has narrowed down to the dark head bobbing between your legs, the heat of his lips and tongue, the eyes that stare fearlessly up at you.

It hardly takes long at all, especially once Dave joins in.

Afterward you’re a comfortable tangle of arms and legs, Karkat’s head pillowed on your stomach, Dave’s arm behind your neck. You feel like all the oceans of the world have rushed through your body and left you clean and hollow. You stroke Karkat’s horn and feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin. Dave kisses your temple.

“Congratulations, Doc,” he says.

“It was totally worth it, just for that,” you say. Then after a moment you add, “As a doctor of philosophy, I hereby decree that the last one to the kitchen has to make the pancakes.”

Karkat groans. For a long moment nobody moves. Then Dave snorfles a laugh in your ear, and Karkat chuckles, and you can’t help it -- you laugh and laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Mini follow-up smutfic can be found [here](http://saffronheliotrope.tumblr.com/post/79677586492/oh-geez-oh-geez-i-would-absolutely-love-to-read) on my tumblr!


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